A good-hearted record company executive gets one of his best clients
stolen away by an evil executive in the same firm. The good executive is not
really up to revenge, but his crafty secretary has other ideas. She
engineers a massive scam in which the evil executive is duped into signing a
band which doesn't even exist. Evil Guy is led to believe that a band called
FUCK is the edgiest, rockingest band to come along in years, and he ends up
giving their manager (actually a sleazy lawyer hired by the secretary) a big
contract to keep the non-existent lads from signing elsewhere. Given that
foundation built by the secretary, the only thing Good Guy has to do to
bring the scheme to fruition is to come up with the least talented band in
history and rename them FUCK, thus humiliating Evil Guy when he presents the
much-heralded FUCK to the world. At that point the film drifts off into
Springtime for Hitler territory.
This is one of the strangest films since the 70s. It's filled with all
manner of bizarre images, non-sequiturs, exaggerated characters, flashing
colors, and surreal situations. There are space aliens, devils, angels,
look-alikes, and even a board game with Death, Bergman-style. Well, to be
accurate, it's not Death but Satan who's playing backgammon, and he's
cheating, as you might expect from the Prince of Lies.
At least Death plays fair.
The cast is extremely eccentric and performs with exaggerated enthusiasm,
so it plays out like an episode of Benny Hill on LSD. I sometimes found the
working-class English accents and slang almost indecipherable, and I
generally dislike self-consciously odd films, but this is all so silly, and
the energy level is so high, that I did get the occasional laugh and never
fast-forwarded during this truly bizarre British film.